ive been recently watching gilmore girls, and i was wondering if you would be willing to write barry with someone goody two shoes/bookworm like rory? similar to like rory and jess, where people think he's too low or too reckless for her, but actually they have a lot in common and get along really well.
waittttt i love this idea sm <3 i’ve never watched it but kinda know what she’s like so i would love to do it but can you give me more of a prompt… likeee what scene should i do
The bass is thumping so deep it rattles your ribs, the air is so thick with weed smoke it tastes sweet on your tongue every time you inhale, and Barry’s little corner of the party is humming with low, hushed deals and the rustle of cash. You’re sprawled sideways across his lap, one leg hooked over his thick thigh, skirt bunched up carelessly so his big, ringed hand can disappear beneath it. His fingers are slow and deep, lazily curling inside you like he’s got all night, his other hand busy counting out crumpled bills to some jittery kid leaning across the table.
You’ve got your face buried against his neck, the heat of him searing your skin, his cologne heavy in your head, every brush of his thumb over your clit drawing out a sound you can’t quite swallow down. A soft, broken little moan escapes, and Barry’s lips twitch in a grin you feel against your temple, like he knows exactly how pretty you sound and exactly how much you don’t want anyone else to hear it.
Then Rafe Cameron stumbles up through the haze, twitchy, with eyes too wide and out of breath like he ran here. “Need a hit,” he mutters, voice low, but he stops mid-step when he sees you.
It’s the way your hips twitch against Barry’s thigh, the faint tremor in your legs, the way you cling to his hoodie—Rafe freezes, staring like he’s never seen anything like it. Barry doesn’t stop for a second, just smirks and says, “You’ve got to wait your turn, Cameron. Ladies first.” His thumb presses harder, slow circles that make your breath hitch, your lashes flutter.
Rafe’s ears go pink, gaze locked on where Barry’s hand vanishes under your skirt. You shift with a helpless little gasp, and Barry chuckles low in his chest, peeling off another bill and sliding a baggie across the table without looking. “Bet you haven’t ever made a girl sound like this,” he says casually, and you feel the way Rafe swallows hard, the awkward shift of him in his jeans, trying to hide how turned on he is.
Barry leans in, mouth brushing your ear as he works his fingers faster, the slick drag of them inside you making you clench. “C’mon, pretty girl… Let him watch you fall apart,” he murmurs, and your thighs tremble, heat spiralling low in your belly.
You try to hide your face, but Barry tilts your chin toward the dim light, toward Rafe, forcing your eyes open for a second. Rafe’s breathing faster now, jaw tight, staring like he’s memorising you. The bass thuds through your chest, Barry’s thumb presses hard, and your body bows against him. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart—Rafe here’s never seen a girl like you lose it, have you, country club?”
It hits so suddenly you almost choke on your own gasp, the pleasure twisting deep and low before it bursts, your velvet walls clenching and curling around Barry’s thick fingers in a desperate, humming rhythm that makes your whole body shiver. Slick rushes out in hot waves, coating his hand, your thighs trembling as your hips jerk helplessly against him. You clutch at his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering you, your head spinning, ears filled with the roar of your own pulse. Barry’s mouth ghosts against your cheek, his voice a low, smug purr you can barely register through the haze. And Rafe… Poor Rafe looks like he’s been gutted, eyes glassy, pupils wide, jaw slack as if every shaky breath he takes is dragging your moans down his throat, his lip caught between his teeth like he’s starving and this is the closest he’ll ever get to a taste.
“Don’t pout, Cameron, you can still look. Might be the closest you’ll ever get.” rafe Cheeks are flushed, a lip is caught between his teeth, and his breathing is a little too fast.
Barry eases you down from it, with slow little strokes that make you twitch, still counting money like nothing happened. “Now what did you want to buy again, country club?” he tells Rafe with a lazy smirk, pulling his hand from under your skirt, your slick glistening on his fingers before popping them back into your mouth.
Rafe’s voice is hoarse when he answers, “Yeah,” but his eyes never leave you.
The bass is thumping so deep it rattles your ribs, the air is so thick with weed smoke it tastes sweet on your tongue every time you inhale, and Barry’s little corner of the party is humming with low, hushed deals and the rustle of cash. You’re sprawled sideways across his lap, one leg hooked over his thick thigh, skirt bunched up carelessly so his big, ringed hand can disappear beneath it. His fingers are slow and deep, lazily curling inside you like he’s got all night, his other hand busy counting out crumpled bills to some jittery kid leaning across the table.
You’ve got your face buried against his neck, the heat of him searing your skin, his cologne heavy in your head, every brush of his thumb over your clit drawing out a sound you can’t quite swallow down. A soft, broken little moan escapes, and Barry’s lips twitch in a grin you feel against your temple, like he knows exactly how pretty you sound and exactly how much you don’t want anyone else to hear it.
Then Rafe Cameron stumbles up through the haze, twitchy, with eyes too wide and out of breath like he ran here. “Need a hit,” he mutters, voice low, but he stops mid-step when he sees you.
It’s the way your hips twitch against Barry’s thigh, the faint tremor in your legs, the way you cling to his hoodie—Rafe freezes, staring like he’s never seen anything like it. Barry doesn’t stop for a second, just smirks and says, “You’ve got to wait your turn, Cameron. Ladies first.” His thumb presses harder, slow circles that make your breath hitch, your lashes flutter.
Rafe’s ears go pink, gaze locked on where Barry’s hand vanishes under your skirt. You shift with a helpless little gasp, and Barry chuckles low in his chest, peeling off another bill and sliding a baggie across the table without looking. “Bet you haven’t ever made a girl sound like this,” he says casually, and you feel the way Rafe swallows hard, the awkward shift of him in his jeans, trying to hide how turned on he is.
Barry leans in, mouth brushing your ear as he works his fingers faster, the slick drag of them inside you making you clench. “C’mon, pretty girl… Let him watch you fall apart,” he murmurs, and your thighs tremble, heat spiralling low in your belly.
You try to hide your face, but Barry tilts your chin toward the dim light, toward Rafe, forcing your eyes open for a second. Rafe’s breathing faster now, jaw tight, staring like he’s memorising you. The bass thuds through your chest, Barry’s thumb presses hard, and your body bows against him. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart—Rafe here’s never seen a girl like you lose it, have you, country club?”
It hits so suddenly you almost choke on your own gasp, the pleasure twisting deep and low before it bursts, your velvet walls clenching and curling around Barry’s thick fingers in a desperate, humming rhythm that makes your whole body shiver. Slick rushes out in hot waves, coating his hand, your thighs trembling as your hips jerk helplessly against him. You clutch at his shirt like it’s the only thing tethering you, your head spinning, ears filled with the roar of your own pulse. Barry’s mouth ghosts against your cheek, his voice a low, smug purr you can barely register through the haze. And Rafe… Poor Rafe looks like he’s been gutted, eyes glassy, pupils wide, jaw slack as if every shaky breath he takes is dragging your moans down his throat, his lip caught between his teeth like he’s starving and this is the closest he’ll ever get to a taste.
“Don’t pout, Cameron, you can still look. Might be the closest you’ll ever get.” rafe Cheeks are flushed, a lip is caught between his teeth, and his breathing is a little too fast.
Barry eases you down from it, with slow little strokes that make you twitch, still counting money like nothing happened. “Now what did you want to buy again, country club?” he tells Rafe with a lazy smirk, pulling his hand from under your skirt, your slick glistening on his fingers before popping them back into your mouth.
Rafe’s voice is hoarse when he answers, “Yeah,” but his eyes never leave you.
i’d love a comeback!! hope everything is okay with you and you’d be so welcomed back <3 ur honestly the only writer i like for barry no one does him justice like u!
ahh thank you so much sweetheart!! i needed some personal time and yeah, it’s been a bit messy, but i really do hope to come back very soon.. just need to organise my account a little first but mwah
hello people.. i know i made this account and only posted a few times but thank you so much for all the kindness on my barry content.. shortly after i posted, something in my personal life went really really wrong, but i’ve been thinking about this account a lot and i’d love to come back soon.. i’m planning to do both rafe and barry content when i return and might even change my user, but i already have some amazing moots here so let me know if you’d read from me if i came back
some moots :: @rafesangelita @pintrestgrl @dollyfiles @sematarygirls
⌗ lux . . . wait this was super fun!! the quality went bad from air dropping them from my phone but oh well. I would actually do more of these for sure